The port town was alive with the hum of activity, but Limejuice moved through the streets with a singular focus. Hongo's disappearance had left the crew on edge, and Limejuice was determined to find answers.
He had started his search in the market, questioning merchants and eavesdropping on conversations. Most of the townsfolk were tight-lipped, their eyes darting away when he mentioned Hongo or the slave trade. But Limejuice was persistent, and his patience paid off when he overheard a pair of dockworkers speaking in hushed tones near a stack of crates.
"Did you see that ship that left earlier?" one of them muttered. "The one with the black sails? I heard they were carrying… cargo."
The other dockworker nodded, his voice low. "Yeah, I saw 'em loading up. Women, kids… even a few men. One of 'em looked like he put up a fight. Had a mean glare, like he wasn't going down without a struggle."
Limejuice's ears perked up at the description. Hongo. He stepped out from the shadows, his presence startling the dockworkers with his cascading light hair managed by a beret cap. "Tell me more about that man," he said, his voice calm with an edge of authority.
The dockworkers exchanged nervous glances, but one of them finally spoke. "He was tall, had this intense look about him. They dragged him onto the ship with the others. Looked like he was trying to fight back, but there were too many of 'em."
Limejuice's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure under his dark glasses. "Which ship? Where was it headed?"
The dockworker hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know where it was going, but it was flying the World Government's flag. They left about an hour ago, heading east."
Limejuice nodded, his mind racing. He tossed the dockworker a few coins. "Thanks. Keep this to yourself."
As the dockworkers scurried away, Limejuice turned, his white coat fluttering, and made his way back to the Red Force. When he climbed aboard, his brow was furrowed, and his mood was grim. He went to Benn Beckman, who was assisting with raising the mast. Benn immediately noticed the look on Limejuice's face.
"What did you find?" Benn asked with an edge of urgency.
Limejuice took a measured deep breath, "Hongo was captured by slavers. They loaded him onto a ship flying the World Government's flag. It left about an hour ago, heading east."
Benn's jaw tightened; lighting a cigarette, his eyes narrowed. "Slavers. And the World Government's involved." He turned to the crew, raising his voice to cut through the noise. "Everyone, listen up!"
The crew gathered around with concern as Limejuice repeated what he had discovered. Their concern turned to anger as they processed the information. The news hit them like a punch to the gut. Hongo was one of their own, and the thought of him in the hands of slavers was unbearable.
Lucky Roux spoke around a mouth full of meat. "We can't just sit here. We have to go after him!"
The crew murmured in agreement. But Benn, pulling a drag from his cigarette, raised a hand, silencing them. "We're not leaving him behind," he said firmly, blowing out a stream of smoke. "But we're in no condition to chase anyone right now. The ship's barely holding together."
Building Snake, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "We can't wait. Every minute we delay, Hongo gets further away. And who knows what they'll do to him."
Benn blew out another puff of smoke, searching the crew, his mind racing. "I know how you feel. But if we set sail now, we risk losing the ship—and then we'll be no help to anyone. We need to finish the repairs."
Lucky Roux swallowed, tossing the bare meat rack, his frustration boiling over. "And what about Shanks? He's still out there too! Are we just going to sit here while our captain and our crewmate are in danger?"
The crew erupted into heated arguments, their voices overlapping as they debated. Some sided with Benn, arguing that they needed to prioritize the ship's survival. Others, like Lucky Roux and Building Snake, insisted that they couldn't wait.
Limejuice twirled his staff to rest on his shoulder, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Listen! Arguing isn't going to help anyone. We need a plan—one that gets us to Hongo and Shanks without losing the ship."
Benn nodded, pulling on his cigarette. He focused on Lime juice. "You're right. Here's what we'll do: we split up. Half the crew stays here to finish the repairs. The other half takes the longboat and goes after Hongo. We'll meet back here as soon as the ship is seaworthy."
The crew fell silent, considering Benn's proposal. Lucky Roux was the first to speak. "I'll go. I'm not waiting around while Hongo's in trouble."
Building Snake nodded. "I'll go too. We'll need someone who can navigate."
Benn's gaze swept over the crew. "Who else?"
Several hands went up, including Limejuice's. "I'll go," he said. "I know the direction they were headed. I can track them."
Benn nodded, holding the cigarette between his fingers. "Alright. Lucky, Snake, Limejuice—you'll take the longboat and go after Hongo. The rest of us will stay here and finish the repairs. We'll meet you as soon as we can."
The crew moved quickly, their earlier tension replaced by a sense of purpose. The longboat was prepared, and the small team set off. Benn turned to the remaining crew as the longboat disappeared into the distance. "Let's get to work. The sooner we finish these repairs, the sooner we can bring our crewmates home."
*****
The Festival Tournament was the highlight of the week-long Founder's Festival, a grand spectacle that drew fighters and spectators from all corners of the island. The tournament grounds were set up in a massive open arena carved into the base of the petrified titan stump, its towering walls providing a natural amphitheater. The arena was adorned with banners of vibrant colors, representing the different competitors, and the air was thick with the hum of excited chatter.
The stands were packed with spectators; their faces lit with anticipation as they cheered for their favorite fighter. Vendors lined the perimeter, selling festival treats like yakitori, mochi, and shaved ice, while children darted through the crowd, their laughter adding to the festive atmosphere. At the center of the arena stood a raised platform, its surface polished to a mirror shine, where the battles would take place. Lanterns hung from the surrounding structures, casting a fiery glow over the scene as the sun began to set.
Master Gaius, seated in the judges' booth with Amel and Nanette Ellington, puffed on his kiseru pipe. Leaning back, he crossed his arms with pride and anticipation. "This year's tournament is shaping up to be one of the best yet."
Amel nodded, a twinkle in his eye. "The fighters are stronger than ever. It's a testament to the strength and resilience of our people."
Nanette rested her chin on a bent elbow. "And the turnout is exceptional. The festival has brought everyone together."
Just then, a young boy with tousled brown hair and a face flushed with excitement weaved through the crowd, his feet barely touching the ground as he darted toward the judges' booth. Dalton, Gaius's grandson, brow drawn, his eyes fixed on his grandfather. He burst through the final cluster of spectators and skidded to a halt before the raised platform, his breath coming in quick gasps.
"Grandpa Gaius!" Dalton called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. Master Gaius looked up from his pipe, his stern features softening into a wide smile as he saw Dalton.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite little warrior," Gaius chuckled, his eyes sparkling affectionately. "What brings you here in such a hurry?"
Dalton beamed, his cheeks bright as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "I wanted to wish you good luck with the judging and watch the matches with you!" He glanced around the impressive arena, his eyes wide with awe.
Master Gaius reached down, lifting Dalton effortlessly onto his lap. "You'll have the best seat in the house, my boy," he said, ruffling Dalton's hair. Nanette and Amel exchanged amused glances, the warmth of the moment adding to the festive spirit that pervaded the air.
Dalton, perched on his grandfather's lap, watched the unfolding spectacle with wide-eyed wonder. The vibrant energy of the tournament filled his small frame, his excitement mirroring the fervor of the crowd around them. His eyes darted from fighter to fighter, marveling at their skill and strength.
Marya had just finished another match, her eyes reflecting a flicker of satisfaction when her opponent bowed respectfully and stepped off the platform. As she sheathed Eternal Night and turned to leave the platform, a familiar voice called out, cutting through the crowd's noise. "Marya! Wait!"
She turned to see Riggs striding toward her, his shaggy blond hair bouncing with each step and his katana resting at his side. His usual reckless grin was plastered across his face, but there was a glint of grit in his eyes. The crowd murmured in eagerness, sensing another dramatic moment unfolding.
"Riggs," Marya raised a curious eyebrow. "What is it?"
Riggs stopped at the edge of the platform, his grin widening. "I've been waiting for this all night. I challenge you to a match."
The crowd erupted in cheers. Marya blinked through narrowing eyes. "You're challenging me? Now?"
Riggs nodded; his flopping, shaggy hair could not hide his seriousness. "Yeah, why not? It's the festival tournament, after all. And I've got a bet to make."
Marya crossed her arms, cocking a hip. "A bet?"
Riggs' grin turned mischievous. "If I beat you, Shanks has to spar with me. One-on-one. No holding back."
The crowd gasped, their attention shifting to Shanks, who was standing at the edge of the platform with Yasopp. Shanks chuckled as he raised an eyebrow. "Me? What did I do to get dragged into this?"
Riggs playfully turned to him in challenge. "Come on, Shanks. You're a legend. I've always wanted to test my skills against someone like you. And if I beat Marya, you've got no excuse."
Shanks grinned, his eyes flickering with amusement. "Alright, I'll bite. But you've got to beat Marya first."
Marya sighed in exasperation. "Riggs, you're impossible."
Riggs shrugged, his grin never wavering. "Maybe. But you're not backing down, are you?"
Marya's lips twitched in a small smile. "Fine. Let's do this."
The crowd's cheers exploded as Marya and Riggs stepped onto the platform. The lanterns cast a low glow over the scene, their light reflecting off the polished surface of the platform as the two fighters prepared to begin.
Riggs drew his katana, his brow creased as he focused. "Ready, Marya?"
Marya unsheathed Eternal Night. She smirked, "Yeah."
The match began with a clash of steel, the sound ringing out through the arena as the two fighters moved with precision and skill. Riggs was fast and unpredictable, his strikes wild but calculated as he pressed his advantage. Marya countered with grace and precision, her movements fluid and deliberate as she dodged his attacks and landed a series of swift, determined strikes.
The crowd watched in awe, their cheers and gasps echoing through the arena as the battle raged on. Riggs' grin never wavered, his grit shining through as he pushed himself to keep up with Marya's skill. But in the end, Marya landed the final blow, Eternal Night flashing in the lantern light as she disarmed Riggs and pressed the tip of her blade to his chest.
The crowd erupted into cheers as Marya stepped back and sheathed Eternal Night. Riggs laughed respectfully. "Alright, alright. You win."
Marya's lips curved into a smirk. "Better luck next time, Riggs."
Riggs shrugged, his grin returning. "Yeah, yeah. But hey, Shanks—how about that spar anyway? Just for fun?"
Shanks chuckled in amusement, tossing a hand in the air. "Why not? But don't expect me to go easy on you."
When Marya stepped onto the platform, Dalton's gaze sharpened with interest. He had heard stories of her prowess and was eager to witness her in action. As the match progressed, he leaned forward, his small hands gripping the edge of the judges' booth. The deft movements, swift strikes, and the grace with which Marya handled her blade left him in awe.
Master Gaius glanced down at his grandson, a smile playing at his lips as he observed Dalton's rapt attention. "She's quite something, isn't she?" he murmured with admirable pride.
Dalton nodded vigorously, his eyes never leaving the platform. "She's amazing, Grandpa! I want to be just like her when I grow up!"
Gaius chuckled, ruffling Dalton's hair once more. "I have no doubt you will be, my boy."
As Marya's opponent bowed and stepped away, Dalton's admiration only grew. He watched intently as Riggs approached her, his challenge ringing through the air. The crowd's reaction was electric, and Dalton's excitement peaked. He clung to his grandfather, eagerly awaiting the next thrilling bout. The arena's lights cast a golden hue over the scene.
Dalton's eyes sparkled with uncontained excitement as the next match was announced. Vaughn and Jax stepped onto the platform, each exuding an aura of fortitude and strength. Dalton bounced on his grandfather's lap, his small frame quivering.
As the gong sounded, Vaughn and Jax circled each other, their movements fluid and deliberate. Dalton's gaze was fixed on the fighters, his breath held in suspense. Vaughn's swift strikes were met with Jax's formidable defenses, the clash of their weapons ringing through the arena.
Dalton's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Vaughn execute a series of deft maneuvers, his agility and precision leaving the crowd in awe. Jax responded with equal prowess, his powerful blows testing Vaughn's resilience. The back-and-forth of the match kept Dalton on the edge of his seat, his hands gripping the edge of the judges' booth once more.
"Grandpa, look at them!" Dalton exclaimed, "They're incredible!"
Master Gaius nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Indeed, they are, my boy. Vaughn and Jax are among the finest fighters here. You can learn much from watching them."
Dalton's eyes never left the platform, his mind absorbing every movement, every technique. As the match reached its climax, Vaughn's strategic brilliance shone through. With a final, decisive move, he disarmed Jax, the crowd gushing in cheers and applause.
Dalton's excitement peaked once more, his admiration for the fighters growing with each match. He turned to his grandfather, his face beaming. "One day, I'll be just as good as them, Grandpa. Just you wait and see." The energy of the tournament filled Dalton's heart, his dreams of becoming a warrior solidifying with each thrilling bout he witnessed.
As the stands buzzed with excitement, one figure stood out like a brilliant beacon amidst the sea of festival-goers. His outfit was a dazzling array of colors that seemed to capture the very essence of the festival—an explosion of purples, blues, and golds that shimmered under the lanterns' illumination. His meticulously styled hair defied the gentle evening breeze, and his eyes sparkled, catching the light with every animated movement. He stood at the edge of the stands, his clipboard forgotten at his side as he cheered Vaughn on with unbridled enthusiasm.
"That's it, Vaughn! Show them what you've got!" Harper called, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. He waved his arms dramatically, his movements as fluid and expressive as ever. "You're amazing! Absolutely amazing!"
Vaughn focused on Jax, but he couldn't help but glance toward the stands for a split second, a small smile tugging at his lips as he heard Harper's voice. Harper's support was unwavering, his cheers growing louder with every move Vaughn made.
"Come on, darling! You've got this! That's my fiancé!" Harper shouted, his tone brimming with pride. He turned to the people around him, gesturing wildly toward Vaughn. "Do you see him? That's my Vaughn! Isn't he incredible?"
The spectators nearby chuckled, some cheering along with Harper, while others simply smiled at his infectious enthusiasm. Harper's passion was impossible to ignore, and his love for Vaughn shone through in every word and gesture.
When Vaughn landed a decisive blow, disarming Jax and securing his victory, Harper nearly leapt out of the stands, his arms raised in triumph. "Yes! That's my man! Vaughn, you're a star! A star!"
Vaughn stepped back from the platform, bowing to his opponent before turning to the stands. His focused demeanor softened as he caught Harper's eye, a small smile playing on his lips. Harper blew him a dramatic kiss, his grin wide and uncontainable.
"I'm so proud of you, darling!" Harper called, his voice carrying across the arena. "You were incredible! Absolutely incredible!"
As Vaughn made his way toward the stands, Harper practically bounced with excitement, his clipboard clutched to his chest. "Did you see that? Did you see him? He's amazing! I mean, I always knew he was amazing, but tonight? Tonight, he's on fire!"
The crowd around him laughed and nodded, their attention drawn to Harper's infectious energy. Vaughn reached the edge of the stands, his easygoing smile widening as he looked up at Harper. "You're going to lose your voice if you keep shouting like that."
Harper waved a hand dismissively, his tone light but carrying a note of adoration. "Oh, hush. You were fantastic, and the whole world needs to know it. Besides, someone has to cheer you on properly, and who better than me?"
Vaughn chuckled fondly. "I wouldn't want anyone else."
Harper beamed, his green hair catching the light as he leaned over the railing. "You're going all the way, darling. I can feel it. And when you win, we're celebrating in style. I've already planned the perfect dinner—candles, music, the works."
Vaughn shook his head, his smile never fading. "You're impossible."
Harper grinned, his tone playful. "And you love me for it."
Dalton's excitement had barely subsided when the announcer's voice rang out once more, introducing the next competitors. His eyes widened with anticipation as Celeste stepped onto the platform, her presence commanding and awe-inspiring. She was known for her agility and elegance in combat, and Dalton couldn't wait to witness her prowess firsthand.
"Grandpa, it's Celeste! She's extraordinary," Dalton whispered, his voice brimming eagerly.
Master Gaius nodded, his gaze fixed on the platform. "Indeed she is, Dalton. Watch closely and learn. Celeste is a master of her craft."
Her friends jumped up from their seats, their combined energy and enthusiasm creating a powerful presence as they cheered for Celeste. Natalie clasped her hands together, her voice ringing out, "Come on, Celeste! You've got this!"
Standing beside her, Emmet, "Celeste, you're unbeatable!" he shouted.
Bianca, "Like, go Celeste! You're, like, amazing!"
Zola, "Celeste, you are destined for greatness!"
Charlie called out, "Celeste, you're a star! You've got this!" He cleared his throat and continued, "Let's analyze this moment! She's going to win, I can feel it."
As the gong sounded, Celeste's movements were nothing short of mesmerizing. She danced across the platform with grace, her strikes precise and fluid. Dalton's heart raced as he watched her engage her opponent, every motion a testament to her skill and training. The crowd's cheers and gasps added to the electric atmosphere, but Dalton's focus remained solely on the match.
Celeste's opponent was formidable, countering her attacks with impressive defenses. Yet, she seemed to anticipate every move, her strategy unfolding like a well-choreographed dance. Dalton's awe grew with each passing second, his eyes never leaving the fighters.
"Look at how she moves, Grandpa!" Dalton exclaimed, his voice filled with amazement. "She's like a whirlwind!"
Master Gaius chuckled softly. "Yes, she is. Celeste's ability to blend speed, strength, and strategy is what makes her exceptional. Remember, it's not just about power, but also about precision and control."
As the match progressed, Celeste's opponent began to falter under her relentless assault. With a final, sweeping maneuver, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground as the crowd erupted in applause. Dalton's excitement soared, his regard for Celeste reaching new heights.
"One day, I'll be just as good as Celeste, Grandpa. I'll train hard and become a master fighter," Dalton declared with shining eyes.
The anticipation in the arena escalated as Captain Knox Penrose and Aurélie stepped onto the platform. The crowd hushed, eager to witness the clash between two of the tournament's most formidable fighters. Captain Penrose, a seasoned warrior known for his strategic brilliance and unyielding determination, faced Aurélie, whose agility and precision had earned her a reputation as a fearsome competitor.
As the gong sounded, the match began with a flurry of movement. Captain Penrose, clad in his distinctive attire, advanced with calculated steps, his eyes fixed on Aurélie. She responded with graceful agility, her movements fluid and unpredictable. The two circled each other, each gauging the other's strengths and weaknesses.
Aurélie struck first, her rapid attacks testing Captain Penrose's defenses. Her strikes were like lightning, quick and accurate, but Penrose deflected them with practiced ease. He countered with powerful blows, each one aimed to break through Aurélie's defenses. The clash of their weapons echoed through the arena, a testament to the intensity of their battle.
The crowd watched in awe as Aurélie executed a series of acrobatic maneuvers, evading Penrose's attacks with seemingly effortless precision. She leapt and spun, her movements a blur as she aimed to outflank her opponent. Captain Penrose, however, remained unfazed. His experience in countless battles had honed his ability to anticipate and counter such tactics.
"Look at their form, Grandpa!" Dalton exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "Aurélie's like a dancer, and Captain Penrose is so strong!"
Master Gaius nodded, his eyes never leaving the fighters. "Indeed, Dalton. It's a battle of finesse against power, and both have their strengths. Watch closely."
As the battle raged on, Aurélie attempted to gain the upper hand with a daring strike. She lunged forward, her blade aimed at a vulnerable spot in Penrose's stance. But Penrose, ever the strategist, anticipated the move. He sidestepped and countered with a swift, forceful strike that sent Aurélie reeling.
The crowd gasped as Aurélie staggered, but she quickly regained her footing. Undeterred, she launched a relentless assault, her attacks coming faster and more fiercely than before. Captain Penrose met her with equal intensity, his every move a testament to his strength and resolve.
"She's not giving up, Grandpa!" Dalton's head swiveled. "And neither is Captain Penrose."
Master Gaius smiled. "True warriors never do, Dalton. They fight with all their heart, no matter the odds."
The match reached its climax as Aurélie, summoning all her remaining strength, executed a breathtaking series of attacks. Her blade danced through the air, each strike aimed with deadly precision. Captain Penrose, however, stood his ground. He parried and countered, his movements a perfect blend of power and precision.
As both fighters reached the peak of their endurance, the intensity of their blows never waned. Aurélie's agile strikes met with Penrose's powerful defenses, each clash of their weapons sending sparks flying. The audience was on the edge of their seats, enthralled by the sheer display of skill and tenacity.
With every passing moment, it became clear that neither Aurélie nor Captain Penrose was willing to concede. Their focus was unwavering, their determination visible in every movement. Aurélie's attacks grew more daring, her blade dancing closer to breaking through Penrose's guard. Yet, Penrose's counters were equally formidable, his strength and strategy proving a near-impenetrable barrier.
"Look at the control they have, Grandpa!" Master Gaius pulled Dalton back from leaning over. "It's like watching a perfectly choreographed dance."
Master Gaius nodded in agreement. "This is the essence of true combat, Dalton. Finesse meets strength, and both fighters are giving it their all."
In a final, breathtaking exchange, both Aurélie and Captain Penrose seemed to push beyond their limits. Aurélie launched herself into an intricate series of strikes, while Penrose met her with a barrage of forceful counters. The crowd held its breath, eyes wide with anticipation.
Then, in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, their blades locked in a deadlock. The two warriors stood, muscles straining, neither willing to yield. The silence in the arena was deafening, the tension almost unbearable.
Slowly, they disengaged, taking a step back from each other. Their breaths were heavy, their bodies glistening with sweat. A murmur rippled through the crowd as they realized what had transpired.
A draw.
The audience erupted in applause, their cheers celebrating the incredible display of skill and resilience. Aurélie and Captain Penrose shared a look of mutual respect, acknowledging the strength and prowess of the other.
As Dalton watched the fighters leave the platform, his heart swelled with inspiration. "One day, I'll be just as skilled and honorable as Captain Penrose and Aurélie, Grandpa. I'll train hard and become a true warrior."
The tournament continued, but for Dalton, the match between Captain Knox Penrose and Aurélie would remain a defining moment. It was a battle that showcased the essence of martial prowess and the unwavering spirit of true warriors.
In the stands, Shanks, Yasopp, and Marya were deep in conversation, their eyes still gleaming with the enthusiasm of the match they had just witnessed. Shanks, with his characteristic grin, leaned back and stretched his arms. "Now, that was a sight to see," Shanks remarked admiringly. "Aurélie and Penrose gave us a show worth remembering."
Yasopp nodded, his gaze still fixed on the empty platform. "They were evenly matched. Each move was calculated, and each counter was precise. It's been a while since I've seen such a balanced duel."
Marya smiled thoughtfully. "Respect is a rare quality."
Shanks chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Respect is earned, not given. And both of them earned it today. But I also saw a spark in the young ones watching. Matches like this inspire the next generation."
Yasopp glanced at Dalton, who was still animatedly discussing the fight with Master Gaius. "That kid, Dalton, he's got the fire. Reminds me of someone I once knew," he said with a wink at Shanks.
*****
The longboat cut through the choppy waves, its small sail billowing in the wind as Limejuice, Lucky Roux, and Building Snake manned the oars with relentless determination. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sea, but the beauty of the moment was lost on the three crewmates. Their focus was singular: find Hongo and bring him back.
Limejuice sat at the bow, looking over the horizon. He held a small spyglass to his eye, searching for any sign of the slaver's ship. The wind whipped through his light-cascading tresses, but he didn't flinch, his expression set in a grim mask of concentration.
"Anything?" Lucky Roux called from the stern, ripping a piece of meat from the bone. He gripped the tiller, steering the longboat with practiced ease.
"Not yet," Limejuice replied, his voice tight. "But they couldn't have gotten far. That ship was heavy with cargo—slaves. They'll be slower than us."
Building Snake, seated in the middle of the boat, pulled at the oars with steady, powerful strokes. His ashen mane waving, his eyes flicked toward Limejuice. "You're sure they went east?"
Limejuice nodded. "The dockworkers said they were heading that way. And the wind's in our favor. We'll catch up."
The three men fell into a rhythm, their movements synchronized as they propelled the longboat forward. The sea stretched endlessly around them, but their resolve was unshakable.
As the hours passed, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The wind picked up, and the waves grew choppier, but the crew pressed on. Finally, Limejuice caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. He raised the spyglass again, his breath catching.
"There!" he said, his voice filled with urgency. "I see a ship—black sails, World Government flag. It's them."
Lucky Roux swallowed and grinned, "About time. Let's show those slavers what happens when they mess with us."
Building Snake's expression remained stoic, but his grip on the oars tightened. "We'll need a plan. We can't just charge in. They'll have guards, and we're outnumbered."
Limejuice light hair shook as he nodded, his mind racing. "We'll wait until nightfall. Under cover of darkness, we'll board the ship and find Hongo. If we're careful, we can get in and out without alerting the whole crew."
Lucky Roux's grin widened. "And if we're not careful?"
Limejuice smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Then we make a lot of noise and hope Benn catches up with the Red Force before things get too messy."
Building Snake shook his head, his ashen mane swaying, but there was a faint smile on his lips. "Let's try to avoid the messy part. For Hongo's sake."
As the sun set and the sky darkened, the longboat drew closer to the slaver's ship. The crew's earlier tension was replaced by a quiet focus. Limejuice stowed the spyglass and picked up his rifle, checking the ammunition with practiced ease. Lucky Roux tightened the straps on his gloves, his grin fading into a fierce look. Building Snake secured the oars and drew a pair of daggers from his belt as he fixed on the slaver's ship.
"Ready?" Limejuice asked, his voice low.
Lucky Roux and Building Snake nodded grimly.
"Then let's go get our crewmate back," Limejuice said.
The longboat glided silently through the water, its small silhouette blending into the darkness. The slaver's ship loomed ahead, its black sails a stark contrast against the night sky.